


A Beginning, Reversed

by Origingirl



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Magic Nerds, Rare Pairings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Humor, i don't know how to tag this honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origingirl/pseuds/Origingirl
Summary: Before the Apprentice, before the Red Plague, before any deals were made, one mistep in a spell sends The Magician to The Devil's realm.(Don't @ me for the cheesy summary please, it's literally 2 am, thx y'all)
Relationships: The Devil/The Magician
Kudos: 11





	A Beginning, Reversed

White, slit irises danced idly around an unfamiliar realm. One that is not his, but surely belongs to that of another major arcana. Chains seemed to fall in eschew gravity patterns as far as the eye can see—from the ceilings to the walls, floors, ceilings, and walls to other walls; a maze of black steel littering the air. Red resided where the chains did not, consuming anywhere from seventy-five to ninety percent of this realms vacant atmosphere.

Vacant, but not lonely, even with a ceiling he’s sure is there but cannot see.

Vacant, save for one, as he is well aware.

The Magician is not used to winding up in places unintended.

His magic is the strongest, oldest, and most practiced among his kin. Intent is weaved in bolded glyphs from the mind with each spell cast. He is not sure where he went wrong for the first time in… goodness, in a very, very long time.

But he worries not, a curious grin gracing his features.

This is another opportunity to learn more about the power in which he wields.

Though, he wonders how long time will permit him to explore another arcana’s realm before they become wise to his heavy magical presence.

Further he wonders, his amber tail flicking every now and then with questions he journals away in his mind to answer later.

There is no smell here, he notes. Even the inert fresh scent of a wide-open space or the natural musty scent of a simple corridor isn’t home here. 

That makes him _slightly_ off-centered.

Scent is a very valuable asset to him and his magic. All things—sentient or otherwise—have an aura, a color, texture, or a distinct scent that sets it apart or registers it with a larger group that makes it… well, that makes it tangible in some way, be it in thought or by physicality. 

This place… it’s intangible. 

Or, at least, it feels very much that way to The Magician.

Would his own realm feel intangible to another arcana, he wonders.

Journeying further down this chained hall that seems endless, The Magician finally senses the arcana who dwells here. Admittedly, he cannot tell exactly _which one_ of his kin it is. No arcana has ever crossed realms into each other's space before. He can’t say he remembers the long winded and bloodstained history as to why that rule stands as a solid #1 among the most powerful forces in this universe. It’s so far back in the past he feels as if it was never a part of his life. However, he’s sure he could guess.

Power imbalances and what have you. 

He himself has never seen another realm, but he knows of a select few who have—mainly The Priestess, The Hierophant, and The World. He finds it interesting that they have no recollection of it for the same reason he can’t remember any sort of wars that had taken place between his kin.

The Magician’s trailing thoughts come to a halt as the hall becomes narrower before cutting off into a large sunken plaza that is, in contrast to the rest of what he’s experienced thus far, void of all chains. Observing it, he counts three steps before reaching the bottom floor. There, the red seems to be dissipated, diluted. The air seems much more recognisable, familiar; tangible in a way the hall did not feel.

He did approach the sunken plaza with a small amount of caution.

What if it was an illusion, and he fell through, driving himself that much deeper into a realm he did not know how he reached in the first place?

Ebbing on where the first step sinks, The Magician inhaled deeply, trying to sense any form of malice that may be present. While he himself is not terribly protective over who comes and goes in his own home, he’s certain some arcana may feel differently.

With no initial warning signs, The Magician slowly walks down onto the first step.

Nothing.

He reaches the second one.

Nothing.

It is only, of course, when the ground senses the presence of The Magician’s foot does it barrel forth chains that latch onto his ankles and wrists before flipping him up in the air and turn him so his feet face the ceiling.

_So, the old rule of three_, he thinks, smirking and unphased at the metal snakes that coil around him as if they themselves were sentient.

His head perks up from the chains to the rest of the room, expecting the arcana that lives here to show themselves.

No such luck.

Or maybe The Magician is lucky that whoever lives here has not yet made themselves known.

If he sensed them from the hall, they must be close.

It’s only a matter of time now.

And that’s fine.

Merely being in another arcana’s realm has given The Magician scrolls worth of data to journal down when he reaches his own.

_If you reach your own anytime soon_, he thinks to himself.

The other arcana may be busy with their own studies, or are perhaps indisposed. It may be awhile before they reveal themselves and a whole timespan more before they let him free if they’re particularly unkind to visitors.

The Magician waits, then.

He exercised a few bond breaking spells to see what kind of magic the chains are comprised of, but none of them so much as create a spark.

_It’s strong_, he notes with awe.

Which, even bound in this situation, to him, is delightful.

Whichever arcana lives here is no stranger to the primal arts.

With any luck, a collaboration may be in order.

He’d guess an hour and a half total has flown by before he senses it again.

This time, the arcana’s presence is much, much, _much_ stronger. Now The Magician can clearly make out the emotions currently floating about their aura; content sums up the most of what he feels, but a hint of amusement is sprinkled within as well. In fact, he notices that with each passing moment, the amusement only grows until it consumed their aura entirely.

They must know they have a visitor, now, and seem to, at least he hopes, be delighted about it.

The Magician feels excitement well up within his being for the first time in a while.

_New_ is hard to come by when you’re someone like him.

_New_, even if it entices danger, is, in his opinion, a chance that can’t ever get passed up no matter the circumstances.

The Magician just then sensed a swell of joy in the other’s aura in response to his own, clearly aware of his bubbling giddiness. 

They must have a similar opinion about _newness._

He hopes they do. 

Harboring strong magic themselves, he really, really hopes they do.

“It appears the spider has caught a fly.” A rich, rumbling, low voice sounded off from a few steps past the threshold of the very same hall he’d walked down.

Clicking of what seemed to be either sharp heels or broad hooves hit the cobblestone floor and echoed for a moment before a large horned figure emerged from the darkened hall.

They’re silhouetted at the moment, a thick red air rolling through every last inch of this place save for the sunken plaza. 

They paused a moment before slowly approaching.

As they did so, The Magician made out more features; broad shoulders with a generous amount of fur lining the neck, a cloth extending from there down to just past the waist, not one but two sets of horns on each side of the head—one arching up, the other bowing down—and finally, eyes a color of red like The Magician has never seen red before.

And a mysterious grin to wrap it all up.

The Magician would have to rename himself The Fool if he’d mistook this arcana for any other of his kin.

“The Devil.” he spoke like he is unaware of the words that had just left his mouth; amused in his own way, but also vaguely, just very slightly afraid.

Because he is not The Fool.

He knows precisely who stands before him, as well as what he may be capable of.

_No wonder this magic is strong_, he thinks.

The Devil takes a few moments to consider what his chains had caught with a light airiness about him, perhaps trying to guess exactly _who_ he’d caught sneaking around his home. He began walking in a slow circle around this being who is clearly not a human, a low hum emitted from his throat.

The Magician is sure of his safety, however.

Not even The Devil himself is an exception to the #1 rule, which entails no harm befalling any one arcana as a result of any other’s actions (intentional or otherwise).

All he can do is hang there, feeling their auras mix and mingle in bouts and spirits of curiosity.

Once he completed his walk around, The Devil tipped his head forward for a moment in a mock-bow.

“The Magician.” He stated, crouching so he could be face to face with his captive, huffing a laugh as he did so. _“Reversed.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for having a go at this rare pair! <3  
I have no other explination than the fact that I'm cursed to ship rares more than mains.  
Chatper 2 coming soon.  
I'll post updates in the notes.  
Again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed ^_^


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